


redwater forest

by BitterlySpiteful



Category: Original Work
Genre: i dont know her, tags who?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29794227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterlySpiteful/pseuds/BitterlySpiteful
Summary: eventually
Kudos: 3





	redwater forest

There used to be people here.

It’s... something to keep in mind, really, looking at the place.

And while you haven’t seen the town — village, more like — you know _of_ it. You’ve heard plenty of stories about it, as well as the forest in general. One of those rare, parasitic creatures. The forests — with no other name for them, sadly — that take over a landscape. This one, in particular, has taken over a good portion of the United States. Left to grow, and spread, until the colonization of the Americas in the 1700s. You believe that a small strip of land outside the forest had originally been named California, though that strip was overgrown, as well, until people had burned a ring around the parasite, preventing its spread.

 _There used to be people here_. 

And, while many say those people have died out, so long ago, there’s... more or less _proof_ right here, right in front of you, that there might _still_ be people, living in there. That, or, well, it's something else.

You set aside your hiking stick and grab the camera hanging around your neck. It’s an old thing, but- it’s what got you into school. You still thank your lucky stars you managed to capture that poltergeist on film, or else you would _not_ be here. Your lucky camera, that’s what you call it.

You snap a picture of the scrawled message on the tree. Carved in, but definitely looking as if it was written with care. Something about the way they’re shallow scratches, but still _there,_ it says something about this parasite.

Hm. You pick up the hiking stick again, even though you really don't use it, and go closer. The bark is warm to the touch, which you make a mental note to write about later. The scratches don’t look like they were carved with a knife — too rounded, too smooth, as if dug out. They’re shallow, but not recent. Whoever- or, whatever- wrote them clearly took care in keeping them there. That, or the forest keeps them there. 

Though, you have the good suspicion that it was the forest’s keeper. There’s always one, with each parasite — the idea that this forest's keeper is still alive is- astounding, really. They aren't known to have that long of a lifespan, in general, but perhaps it's different when they haven't been taken from their forests.

You take a moment to step back, and crane your head upwards, to look over the forest you’re about to spend the next year studying. 

It used to be some old redwood forest, though the original trees don’t follow how modern redwoods look. Tall spires of trees, with their leaves busheling outwards, blocking most of the sunlight from coming through. The roots tangle with each other, creating winding paths and difficult terrain to navigate through. (So, maybe you _will_ be using that trekking pole. You probably should've brought the other of the set, but it seemed like a bit too much to carry.)

There are very few recognizable plant species left, other than the redwood trees. Most of the forest has been overgrown with red, sweet-smelling things. You would... hesitate, to call them plants, as other forest parasites such as this have done things like this before, and generally, the specimens from those come back negative for both flora and fauna, but, well-

As you watch, the red, twisting ‘trees’ that have choked out the life of the forest, well- They _move_. Twist, and shudder, groaning with the weight of their waterlogged leaves. They droop, and hang, and seem to sway even though there is no wind. (There’s never wind, whenever you’re near something supernatural.) There is no birdsong, or cries from bugs, or the rummaging of animals. No sound, other than the groaning, hissing noises of the Red moving. It's not as active as you had imagined, though.

But what a _marvelous_ place, really. Not one that’s been explored — and for good reason. You’ve heard the horror stories, of people going in, and not coming back out. Though, some have claimed they had gone in, and they always say they _escaped_. They... don't tend to last, once they get out. 

A malicious thing, indeed. 

And- you’re not _stupid_. You aren’t going in unarmed. You have enough supplies to last a while, and if you can’t manage to gather any food within the forest, your truck is only a day’s hike from the edges of it. But, ever-cautious as you are (it comes with your line of work, really), you still shrug off your pack and start making camp. Pitching your tent up, starting a small fire, then hanging your food up in one of the lower branches of the carved tree. 

With everything set up, you check through your belongings one last time. Spirit wards, creature charmers, rolls and rolls of film, a few flash grenades, your hunting rifle, a handful of boxes of ammo for that, chalk, a good few pounds of salt, tape recorders- A few more things here, and there- Check, check, and check. 

Okay, so, you can’t lie, you _are_ nervous. It’s hard _not_ to be, sitting next to one of the most unknown and unexplored supernatural phenomenon of the country. But, well, hopefully within the year that will change. You're- humble, though. You know that you and you alone won't be able to fully study this. Hopefully, though, your work will eventually be used to... tame this, maybe. Or at least get a better understanding of these parasites in general.

Night is falling quickly, with the sun smearing colors across the horizon. You aren’t watching the sunset, rather- Your eyes are on the forest, and how it starts to glow. It’s one of the things you’ve been looking forward to seeing. One of the few things that's widely known about the red forest.

The Red, well, it lights up at night. Washing the underside of the canopy with brilliant colors- golds, maroons, crimsons. Golden spores drift in the air, escaping out from the tree line, and catching on the breezes that start beyond the ring of ash around it. You reach down and pull your mask up over your mouth and nose. You were at least warned of the pollen, and its sickening effects. 

The Red trees rattle, shift, and... _stretch_ . They reach branches upwards, no longer dropping, winding and twisting across the leaves. You watch, transfixed, as the redwood trees _wilt_ where the Red touches. There is no doubt, really, that this creature is parasitic. Just as the one in Russia behaves, sucking the life from the things around it. Though, as you watch, you see that it- hesitates, and stops eating, as if afraid of losing that source of food.

You blink, and come back to yourself, and hurry to grab your camera. Wind the film, click. Wind, click, wind, click. Then, pull your journal and start writing.

_This will mark the first night of my tri-_

_Oh, the date is March seventh, of 1978._

_This will mark the first night of my trip. I'm excited, to finally be doing this. All that work, and school and student loans- Anyway. Already, as I sit on the outskirts, I’ve noticed a few things about this forest._

_The creature seems to be parasitic, just like the other cases of this species have noted. Contrary to the Russian Snowfall Forest, it seems nocturnal. While I’m not yet sure of its level of sapience, if it is at all, I can say it is at least sentient enough to be able to eat for itself. Unlike Snowfall, there is not a cult of people. At least, not from an outside point of view. Perhaps there are some, living in there._

_Things to note:_

_-parasitic. It feeds off of the redwood trees, and the grounds immediately surrounding it seem fairly dead, as well._

_-the Red can move, as with the Snowfall forest-city of Russia._

_-the spores don't seem to be rooting well outside of the forest. they reach beyond my campsite, though there are very few red sprouts. It seems the ring that was burned around it has held up- I will have to get into contact with the people that tend to it, and ask them a few questions- see if they know anything more about this forest._

_-nocturnal. While the Red moved somewhat during the day, it has now stretched, as if waking up, and is currently feeding-_

A glance back, and- you stop to look over it again. Watch, as veins of gold pulse up the redwood trees. Those are feeding-tendrils, you believe, though they are different from the pictures of the Snowfall parasite. And, just like the reports of that one, there's a... pulsing. If you listen closely, you can hear it. A heartbeat, though the sound is more of a vibration. It travels out, through the ground. Curious, you rummage through your bag to find a bowl, and your canteen. Fill the bowl, and set it on the ground.

The water ripples, every handful of seconds. 

_A creature of this magnitude — with a heartbeat, and some sort of sentience — is to be respected. And, considering that it has been trapped for so long, I will need that respect to be as safe as I can._

You pause in writing, and look back to the forest. The swaying of the Red, the glowing veins crossing up and down the trees, the pollen slowly drifting in the air-

And you can’t help but feel... watched.

In your line of work, this is something to be expected. It’s something you’re used to. But you are well beyond the Red forest’s reaches. And generally, with terrain-centered creatures such as this, they can only see someone if that person is within their boundaries. But here, you get that same... crawling feeling, on the back of your neck. You stare back, looking over the forest. It’s impossible to tell if there is movement out of place, as the Red tendrils have gone to curling and waving, as if dancing to a song. 

_'There used to be people here.'_

What could have written that? 

Certainly not the parasite- Studies of Snowfall claim that, from what that one has said through its child-keeper, it has no need for learning a written language.

...There is something watching you, from inside the Creature’s reaches. 

You cautiously look away, pulling your book closer and writing down-

_I believe I am being watched by the keeper of this forest. For now, I will pause in my writing, as I don’t want to be taken off-guard._

_-Hammond John James_

**Author's Note:**

> the chapters will probably be short, to begin with. maybe theyll get longer, maybe they wont, who knows, im going in blind.
> 
> which, brings me to a warning: most of this is,,, only vaguely planned, so keep that in mind. ill let you know if i ever rewrite it, or change shit from previous chapters. just- be patient w me blease  
> another thing to keep in mind: its a fantasy world based off of what could probably be considered real life. historical inaccuracies are,,,, probably intentional. idk im not a history buff.


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